- 3 -

I may have been a coward, but I was a haunted one. I couldn't stop thinking about how Chrissy had sought me out, or how she smiled when she killed vampire bats, or how it felt like my whole life was in my arms when I picked her up.

I couldn't get the blood out of our trailer floor no matter how I scrubbed. Just like my shirt, there was a permanent stain left behind, and it haunted me like everything else. My uncle asked about the blood and drugs just the way I'd feared, but he didn't kick me out.

"Whatever you're in," he said, "you get out of it. You hear me? I can't see you in jail. Not you."

He didn't say it at all like Chrissy's mom.

I wished I was a little braver for both our sakes.

I said, "I hear you."

So I didn't go to Chrissy's house. When school started back up after the break, I just stared when I passed her in the halls. She gave me a little smile once, but mostly her eyes were on her shoes, her books. She walked all hunched in on herself and like she was waiting to get jumped by a gang at any minute.

I thought of meeting her in the woods, of the way she'd jumped at squirrels.

"Maybe you should stay out of it," I told the Hellfire Club. I leaned forward above my DM screen, gestured to the figures on the table. "Maybe it's only trouble ahead. Maybe it'll get you killed."

My new shirt didn't show the blood, but I felt it there all the same.

"No way!" shouted Dustin. He even pounded the table, passionate kid. "Lady Westenra Silvergate needs our help; those trolls are dead meat."

"One has spoken." I glanced at the other players. "And the rest?"

Everyone wanted to save the damsel in distress. What was the point of being heroes otherwise?

If only real life were so easy.

Instead of going straight home after Hellfire, I lingered by the gym. Sometimes it was the thundering sound of basketballs and the squeak of running shoes that overlapped with our club time. Sometimes it was the rustling shake of pom-poms.

The cheerleaders had already finished. Chrissy had her jacket and her bag, but as the other team members waved goodbye, she didn't move. She was talking to Jason, the hoops guy. The ex-boyfriend.

Go home, Eddie.

I blew out a breath, stepped clear of the doorway so a few girls could get through, ignored the looks they gave me.

If anyone could save a damsel in distress, it was a varsity hoops guy. But she'd left him. And she'd bought drugs from me.

Why?

Neither of them raised their voices, so I didn't hear a thing. I just saw Jason walk away with slumped shoulders. He didn't have to pass me; he exited on the other side of the gym, and after he left, Chrissy sank down onto the floor and hid her face in her folded arms.

And I couldn't bear that.

"Heyyy," I said, the most awkward person on the planet. My steps echoed on the weird gym floor; maybe it was only weird because I never entered unless forced.

"Stay back!" Chrissy leapt to her feet.

And before she turned away—

For the smallest second—

I could have sworn she had fangs.

Gotta stop playing D&D before bed.

"You okay?" I ventured.

"I'm sorry." Her voice broke. She was crying.

"Hey, it's—sorry for what? You didn't do anything. I'm the one who startled you." With nothing else to do, I picked up her abandoned pom-poms and gave them a little maraca shake. "I'm just here for cheerleading practice."

She laughed, though it was still half a sob.

Emboldened, I struck a few poses, and with each one, her smile got more relaxed.

"I don't actually know how it's done." I shrugged. "Never been to a game."

"What?" She swiped at her eyes, but her smile stayed. "Here I thought you were head cheerleader."

"I do give that vibe, don't I? It's all the bling." I flashed my rings dramatically.

"The other cheerleaders must all be jealous."

"Oh, wildly. The—the dance moves, anyone can do that, come on. It takes a special talent to walk around under the weight of this much . . . personality. And not conform, I mean."

"You're definitely special," she agreed, but I liked the way she said it.

I held the pom-poms out. "I wouldn't mind seeing a real expert."

But Chrissy only raised an eyebrow. "I'm no cheerleader. You couldn't tell by my hair? I'm captain of the basketball team."

I grinned.

As surprising as improv D&D with Chrissy had been, playing a one-on-one basketball game with her was even more so. No one else could have gotten me on the court, not for a million dollars, not to save my life. But all she had to do was pull a basketball off a cart and toss it to me. All she had to do was smile.

"You have to dribble!" she shouted, laughing through the words. "You have to—"

"He shoots; he hoops!" I lobbed the basketball at the board with full force and missed entirely. Chrissy laughed so hard, she doubled over.

During her turn, she moved to shoot, and I hooked an arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground and throwing us both off balance.

"Cheat!" she accused.

I stole the ball and took another shot that at least brushed the net.

"Twelve points!" I raised double peace signs, spitting out the strand of hair that had fallen in my mouth. After jumping around so much, my whole look was probably bedhead from hell. "Halftime is mine!"

"You really, really don't know this game."

"Not a thing." But I would have learned anything from her, so when she stood on lines and showed me how to steady the ball with one hand and flick with the other, I mimicked every action. Even if I couldn't hit the little box, she at least got me hitting the backboard.

"You"—I pointed at her shrewdly—"really, really like this game."

"Not really." She ducked her head. "Girls can't play, I mean."

"Right. Sports. The, uh, superiority club. So is that why you do the cheerleader thing—close as you can get?" That sounded awful, now that I thought about it.

"Actually, I do the cheerleader thing because my mom did the cheerleader thing, and there was never any choice about it."

She stood on the far line and shot a perfect basket. I imagined even her ex-boyfriend couldn't do better.

"I do like cheerleading," she said. "I just . . . would have liked a choice."

"Well, it's almost graduation. Then you can do whatever you want." I caught the ball and tossed it back to her. In her general direction, anyway. It bounced away, and she didn't chase it.

"Right." She licked her lips. "What does that look like for you? Post-graduation life."

Honestly, as much as I bragged about this being my year, I didn't like to think about it.

"Well, realistically, the band and I are gonna make it big. Record label, intense fame, rabid fans, et cetera. Unrealistically . . ." I shrugged. "I don't know. Get a job somewhere. Like my uncle, I guess."

Work back-breaking shifts all day and come home to an empty trailer.

That's the life.

"Right," Chrissy said again, a whisper.

"Hey." I stepped closer to her, because the gym felt too big for the shameful thing I had to admit. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. When your mom came to get you that time, I should have stood up for you. I wanted to stand up for you. I . . . um, as it turns out, I'm a coward."

"Eddie." She gave me a heartbreaking smile. "I don't think you're a coward. I think . . . I think you could take on every monster in Castle Ravenloft."

She remembered its name.

She remembered my band.

Everything.

"If I ever could," I said, "I'd do it for you."

She blushed, and that was good, because I was sure I did, too.

But then she said: "I'm not worth that."

While I was still trying to figure out what to say, she went on.

"I'm one of the monsters."

It was probably true. It had been less than two weeks since Chrissy was bleeding out on my trailer floor, but she wore her cheerleading outfit like usual, and there wasn't a single mark on her neck, scar or otherwise. She had a smile that could put down the sun, and sometimes I brought it out. She probably was a monster. It was the only explanation for everything.

"Why would you ever think that?" I asked her.

Her eyes shimmered. She looked away.

"It's late," she said. "I have to get home."

"Chrissy, you can tell me. Anything. I would never tell anyone about the drugs or about anything else."

"You'll hate me," she whispered.

Even though I would never say it out loud, I was pretty sure my feelings were the opposite of hate. I said, "I'll never hate you."

"Then you'll be scared of me."

"I'm a little terrified every time we meet. I'm still here."

She bit her lip. When she turned away, I thought I'd pushed too hard and she was running, but she crouched by her abandoned bag and dug through it until she had a notebook. She scribbled something on a page and tore it out.

When she brought me the folded note, she wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Wait to read it," she said, "until after I'm gone."

Whatever it was, it suddenly felt real with a whole new weight.

After she collected her things, she said her shaky goodbye to the floor. "I really liked being your friend, Eddie. Even if it was only for a little while."

Then she left.

And I opened her note.

It said:

I'm a vampire.